Late Night Snack
by BBBA
Summary: Bob just wants a snack and a little peace and quiet. Yeah, that'll happen in a house with four kids.


Bob Duncan rubbed his face wearily and took a deep breath before getting out of his truck. It had been a long, hard day at work, followed by three emergency calls and all he wanted was to settle into his favorite spot in the couch with a hearty snack and some ESPN. He hoped he was arriving home late enough to have missed the usual family hustle and bustle.

He let himself in and moved quietly through the tidy kitchen. There was a note on the counter for him. "Hey, Daddy," it said in his oldest daughter's loopy handwriting; "Mom got called in to work, P.J.'s on a date, the little kids are in bed. Don't worry, I took the baby monitor downstairs with me. PS, Mom's casserole is in the fridge if you're hungry. Hope you're not. Love you!"

He chuckled despite the flash of guilt. He really was lucky to have such a wonderful family, he reflected; he really shouldn't feel so relieved to have the time alone tonight. He made a quick vow to himself to take a pass on these evening calls for a while so he could enjoy more time with his kids. In the meantime, however, he was going to build himself a double-decker turkey and cheese sandwich.

"Can I have some, too?"

Bob gave a shout and dropped bread, turkey, and mayo. "Gabe! What are you, trying to do, give me a heart attack?" he demanded.

His 11-year-old son grinned from his spot at the kitchen table. "Sorry, Dad," he said. "I thought you saw me sitting here."

"Yeah, well, I didn't, " Bob said. He gathered up the scattered sandwich ingredients and started building his turkey and cheese masterpiece. "It's late, Gabe. You've got school in the morning. What are you doing up?"

"I wasn't tired."

"I am. Go to bed, Son."

Gabe sighed deeply . He stood up and tightened the belt on his bathrobe, and turned slowly toward the kitchen door. "G-good night, Dad. I love you," he said softly.

Bob closed his eyes for a moment, mentally cursing himself. He dropped the mammoth sandwich on a plate and hurried after Gabe into the living room.

"Gabe. Wait. Have a seat."

Gabe sat at the very far end of the couch. He didn't look at his father.

"What's going on?" Bob asked from the opposite end.

A shrug.

Bob resisted the urge to sigh and turn on the tv. It was obvious that the kid wanted to talk, but it was equally obvious that the conversation was going to be like pulling teeth.

"Dad, is PJ going to move away when he graduates?" Gabe suddenly asked.

"I don't know. I'm sure he'll go sometime, even if he lives at home for a while afterward. Is that what this is all about? You stayed up this late because you're worried about getting your own room?"

"No—well, yeah, I guess. G'night, Dad."

"Hold it." Bob patted the seat next to him. "Get over here and talk to me. What's really bugging you?"

"I… It's just that…When P.J. moves out, nobody's gonna notice me! You and mom are busy with work, and when you're not at work, you're both all wrapped up with Charlie and Teddy. I mean, I get it, okay? Teddy is perfect, and smart, and pretty… and Charlie is little and cute and needs you . And I'm just…me. P.J. thinks I'm just a goofy little kid, but at least he hangs out with me. When he's gone…" Gabe's voice trailed off. He stared at the floor.

"Gabe, I—"

"Dad, it's okay, I guess. I know I'm nothing special compared to the others, but…"

"Gabriel Duncan, I have heard enough." Bob seized his son's shoulders and turned him so the were facing each other. "How can you possibly think you're 'nothing special'? I know your Mom and I are busy, but it can't be that bad, can it?"

Another silent shrug.

"Son… I don't know what I can say to convince you—wait a minute." Something occurred to him; something he had never really discussed with anyone. "Listen, Gabe, I want to tell you something that's going to let you know just how special you really are to us, okay? And this is going to stay between you and me.

"You were a bit of a surprise to us, like Charlie. Your mom was almost through the first trimester before we realized you were on your way. And just as we were getting used to the idea, there were some complications. Your mom had to go on bed rest, and Dr Singh told us to be prepared to…to, ahh…well, to be prepared for the worst. And then when you came so early—" Bob stopped to clear his throat.

"Dad, I know I was a preemie. I've seen the pictures."

"But there's stuff you can't you can't see in those pictures. Did you know that I could put my wedding ring around your wrist? Or that you were so tiny I could fit you in my hand? That first night, I sat there watching you struggle for every breath, and I wondered if each one was going to be the last one. And then you just looked at me. Not crying. You just looked at me through the glass and there was something in your eyes that let me know you were going to fight. I could tell right then what a strong, determined, _special_ little boy you were. And Gabe, you are still that same strong, determined, _special_ young man. "

Bob gently touched his son's face and forced him to look up. "Don't you get it?" he asked softly. "Out of all my kids, you're the one that I came the closest to losing before I ever even got to know you. I may not say it often enough, but we love you. _I_ love you. And don't you ever doubt it."

His son was quiet for a moment; then—

"I love you too, Dad!" And Gabe flung his arms around his father's neck, hugging him tightly. "One more question?"

"Sure."

"Can I have part of your sandwich?"


End file.
